


plastic taste

by orphan_account



Category: Cancer Crew, Filthy Frank - Fandom, IDubbbzTV - Fandom, Maxmoefoe - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:03:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9901976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ian chuckled vaguely, eyes closed.“I like being with you Max. You're like my best friend.” Something urged him to say it, while he still knew Max was next to him.





	1. snapchats

**Author's Note:**

> Blah blah blah, I'm not trying to say this is how these people are, for all intents and purposes these are characters and not genuine interpretations of these human and their lives. 
> 
> But I want to add stuff to this fandom, we'll see where this goes.

Sometimes in the mornings, after he turned his alarm off, it was so quiet that, in a half-asleep haze, he wondered if he’d died, or had been transported to an alternate dimension that was devoid of people. Feelings like that can be hard to shake, until you check your phone and see a message, or look out the window and see other humans walking around, going about their mornings.

It was one of those mornings today, as he stared up at his bedroom ceiling, the low hum of his computer tower the only noise in the entire universe. After a few minutes Ian picked up his phone, swiping his finger to raise the brightness so he could actually see what was on the screen as the sunrise shone through his window.

Waiting for him was a whole slew of snapchats from his Australian friends that had been arriving all night. He watched them lazily, barely paying attention, but also reluctant to skip them. He skipped everyone’s video snapchats, but these were his actual friends and there was a sort of obligation to watch them. It looked like Chad and Max had spent the day vlogging and shopping for things they’d need for when Ian and George came to visit in a week.

Nonetheless, watching the fun they had together sent a spike of jealousy through his chest. Max and Chad were able to hang out whenever they wanted. There didn’t need to be a whole trip planned. Ian had never been very sociable and that’s probably how he’d ended up with a whole group of friends who lived thousands of miles away from him.

He let out a sigh and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, swinging his legs out of bed, the house still deadly quiet. The first thing he did was put on one of his spotify playlists, if just to fill the silence. 

\--

From there, Ian's morning started with a nice long piss, to alleviate his boner, and then he ate a bowl of cereal while watching whatever YouTube videos happened to be in his recommended tab. Today wasn't looking particularly promising. 

He scrolled through his uneventful Twitter timeline, already moping about how the rest of the day was sure to pan out. The sun was already high in the sky and he'd barely gotten out of bed yet. 

Just as Ian started to type a shitty tweet, a snapchat notification popped up. 

_George_

He clicked on it habitually, wondering what the fuck it could have been.

And was more than a little disappointed when it was a slow motion snap of George blowing smoke from his mouth.

Ian took a lazy photo of his table, adding, _“wow you look so cool smoking ganja George”_

And finished his tweet.

George sent him a few more snaps complaining that he was being a bitch and Ian called him a deadbeat stoner, but it did improve Ian's mood to have a little banter on what felt like a particularly lonely day.

He'd never say that to George though.

It wasn't long before Ian found himself laying on top on his bed again, browsing idly through Netflix, supremely bored by every option it had. After scrolling through every category and finding nothing, he paired his phone to the TV and started a similar journey through his YouTube recommendations again. This time he ended up on Vsauce’s DONG’s playlist and found it just interesting enough to watch.

After a few videos, Ian's mind began to wander and his left hand started rubbing idly against his dick, underneath the pair of grey sweats he wore. 

It's not like he had anything else to do today. 

It's not like anyone was gonna walk in on him. 

Honestly, it didn’t take much time at all to reconcile the fact that this was what he was doing today, and he turned down the TV, no longer paying any attention at all to the short videos that continuously played as he raised his hips and slipped his sweats and boxers down below his knees. There was a bottle of lotion in one of his nightstand drawers, and Ian squirted a small glob onto the palm of his left hand, spreading it around just slightly before wrapping it around his still quite soft, but warm dick. He laid his head back against the pillows, knees bent, other hand underneath his head as he tugged lazily, in no rush to finish quickly. Ian’s hand pumped slowly and he felt himself grow hard, closing his eyes as he began to go a little faster, chest heating as his body caught up.

Fleeting images flew through his head as he swiped a thumb across the tip of his hardness; someone straddling him, eyes dark as they leaned forward, what it was like last time they were together, thick lips covering his almost in an act of defiance, although he didn’t know who they belonged to, strong hands cupping his jaw, the kiss he shared with the mystery person almost bruising. He imagined himself underneath someone, their hands on his hips, breath hot and familiar in his ear. 

A sharp gasp left Ian’s chest as his cock twitched in his hand, heat pooling low in his body. He felt the edge on the horizon and tightened his fist, now gripping the sheets with his right hand, all his fantasies leaving his mind as his eyes squeezed shut tighter and short breaths left his lips. His hips twitched up into his hand and he exhaled in a low groan as his back arched up and he tumbled over the edge, warm beads of come falling onto his stomach. 

When he caught his breath and opened his eyes, he was more aware than ever of the ache in his chest.


	2. sms and hearthstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ian plays some hearthstone.

The next day was spent much more productively, going to the store, getting groceries, visiting the bank to get a new debit card printed, a few hours spent editing a new video while he ate a bowl of Cap’n Crunch. All in all, Ian felt pretty good on Tuesday.  
.  
Around 10PM though, he got another snapchat from George. Just one of those ones that’s a black screen. It said, _What’s up?_

Ian knew that in New York it was much later at night though. A type of late that was maybe even a little dangerous to be talking at.

_Just chompin on a pussy._

He replied with a black screen too. It seemed appropriate for whatever weird snapchat conversation he was about to have with George. 

_Nice._

Was all he got back. Now Ian was a little frustrated. What the hell did George want?

_Everything cool, man?_

He sent that one with a little hesitation, but he wasn’t quite sure why. It took George a few minutes to reply to him, and in the meantime he went and got a glass of water.

_Yeah, I’m cool. Just checking up on you dude._

Something twisted in Ian’s chest as he read the response over a few times and he felt a certain warmth towards his friend for checking up on him. 

_I’m cool._

George didn’t send a response, and he wished that it was easier for him to just say, “I’m not doing that well. I’m lonely in California, I have no friends here.”  
But he couldn’t do that. He never could do that. Ian turned some quiet music on and set his phone next to his head. The ceiling of his room stared back at him in the dark.

\--

Wednesday found him spending most of the day playing Hearthstone, motivation not coming to him easily. 

Thursday he uploaded a new video around 3, having spent his whole morning finishing it. That evening he went out to dinner with a few casual friends, the kind you only hang out with once in a while. It made him feel better, at any rate. 

Friday he woke up to a shit load of texts from Max. 

_Chad wants to play kings cup… tell me it's a bad idea._

_It's been 2 minutes and you haven't responded. Are you ignoring me ian:(_

_We have this new crazy blue vodka…. It's fucking incrediblr we gotta getsome ehen u giys come_

_I wish you wre hetre… u'd have a grearyt time. But ur sofarawyyyy_

_Caloferna is so fkcing far dudde_

_I tihkn mgnnbahdieeeeeeeiasn_

_Hlepppp meeeeee iansnnnnnnnn_

Clearly he'd had a good time last night. Ian just laughed, only mildly embarrassed on Max's behalf. In a few days he'd be on a plane, and they'd be getting wasted and making videos and loudly painting their way around Australia together and it was going to be fucking great. Just like it always was. 

_How you feeling, princess?_

It wasn't until a couple hours later that max responded to him.

_I'm never drinking again. I always say the most embarrassing shit._

Thin fingers grabbed his phone from where it rested in his back pocket, and Ian responded, a slight smile on his face as he walked down the street. 

_Yeah, missing me is so embarrassing._

It was a particularly hot day, and he was beginning to regret the decision to wear a beanie out. But it was too late the change his mind now. Ian turned into an American Eagle and made his way towards the jeans.

_I do miss you, sweetheart._

Shopping wasn't something he really enjoyed, and he grabbed the first few pairs that looked like they fit and looked around the outlet for a dressing room. 

_You're so gay._

The only pair that fit was a pair of washed out grey jeans that were frayed around mid thigh. Ian bought them and started heading back towards the parking garage he'd left his car at.

_So are you._

He'd be leaving for Australia in just two days, and the nagging part of his brain told him that he needed to start packing, or else he'd regret it.

When he got home, Ian played rounds of hearthstone until his eyes began to water from the strain. 

Saturday he didn't wake up until 1 pm, and when he did, it was with a start, as if his body had suddenly realized how late in the afternoon it was. His eyes were thick with sleep and a long groan left him as he stretched in his bed. When he sat up his head spun and he almost laid right back down. 

After a few minutes, once Ian had rediscovered where he was, pressing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, he remembered.

He was leaving for Australia tomorrow.

The thought made him perhaps just a little too giddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk guys. I'm trying to be a few chapters ahead so I can post more consistently, but we'll see I guess.


	3. beers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is a lightweight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally deleted this chapter because I'm an idiot lmao

Flying to Australia always sucked. It was so fucking long, and so fucking cramped, even in first class seats, and Ian tended to get rather hyper during really long flights. About halfway there, the tips of his fingers and toes began to tingle with energy, and he tapped them agitatedly on the tray in front of him.

The most meaningful thing that happened on the whole flight was the middle aged woman who turned around and chastised him for tapping the back of her chair. He had apologized and stopped, glaring sullenly out the window.

\--

“Is this a meme or something, where are you?” Leave it to Max to promise to pick him up and then when Ian calls, asking where he is, tell him to take a cab.

“I told you, I'm at home, mate! I totally forgot you were coming!” Max's voice was filled with too much glee to be believed, and it didn't fool him for a second.

“Get your ass out here, Max. I'm very grumpy and tired from that flight.” He stood out by the pick up area, leaning out into the road to see if he could get a glimpse of Max's car. 

“Aw, little Ian is grumpy. Does he wants a nap when we get home?”

“Yes, he does actually.” Ian laughed with him though, feeling a wonderful lightness in his chest for being with his friends again. 

“Oi! Over here cunt!” He heard it come out of his phone, but he also heard it to his right, and turned to see Max pulling up to him. Ian hung up the phone and threw his baggage in the trunk.

They drove back to Max's with the windows down.

“Is George here yet?” Ian asked from Max's couch, a McDonald's bag in his lap as the other boy did something in the kitchen.

“No, he's coming tomorrow. We have the place all to ourselves tonight honey.” Max waggled his eyebrows at Ian, who made some kissy noises back at his friend.

“Did you kick Chad out then? Finally.” Ian said louder than necessary, knowing Chad was holed up somewhere. 

“It's good to see you too, cunt!” Chad's voice floated in from the office and the two boys chuckled.

“Want a beer?” Max asked, already tossing one in Ian's direction.

One beer turned into 6 beers, and before long, Ian was definitely tipsy. The other boy seemed to find that quite funny.

“You're so lightweight Ian, Jesus.”

“No I'm not, I just… I'm not an alcoholic like you, you fuckin bitch.” He knew his words were slurring together a bit, but he was just drunk enough not to care, and Max laughed louder, always entertained by drunk Ian.

“You want another one, champ?” He held up another beer, and Ian glared at it.

“No.” He said, but reached for it anyway. Everything was a little too dizzy and warm, and he knew he'd had all the beers too fast, because they didn't usually get him this drunk this quickly.

“I'm so fuckin pissed.” He mumbled, nursing the beer and focusing his eyes on nothing in particular. Max's shit eating grin didn't irritate him as much as it probably should have. “Why are you pissed?”

“Because…” Ian started, the tiny rational part of his brain telling him to shut up. ”Because I fuckin love it here. I love hanging out with you.”

He felt Max's mood change, but he wasn't sure why. “And that pisses you off?” His voice was more hesitant this time. 

“Yeah, because I have no fuckin friends in California. All my friends are so far away and I have to plan a whole fuckin trip just to see you. It sucks.”

Max didn't respond for a while, and Ian finally focused on him, dimly realizing that the beer in his hand was empty now. “Cheer up, Max, we're having a fucking party, let's do something fuckin stupid!”

Max met his eyes, like he was trying to see something, but the moment was gone so quickly. “Yeah, like what?”

“I dunno… I was hoping you'd have something.” Ian felt like a noodle, and he didn't want to sit up anymore. They were on the couch, and he was starting to feel tired. The flight and time difference must have begun catching up with him. He told Max he was tired, and Max kindly half-carried him to a guest room. When they got to the bed, Ian collapsed onto it, his head swimming, and he held onto Max to keep him grounded. 

“Fucking ow, you just smashed my head into a bedpost you cunt.”

Ian chuckled vaguely, eyes closed. 

“I like being with you Max. You're like my best friend.” Something urged him to say it, while he still knew Max was next to him.

“I know that, mate. You're mine too.”

“Shut up.” Ian mumbled, letting Max extricate himself from his arms, curling into the bed, not noticing that he was still in the jeans and sweater that he'd been wearing since he got on the plane.

\--

Ian woke up at about 3 in the morning, and immediately realized that he was still drunk, although it had worn off somewhat. He also realized that he was insanely thirsty. The idea of getting up and making his way to the kitchen for a glass of water made him want to die, but he sat up anyway, head swimming. The fuzziness in his mind was extremely annoying, and it took him too long to adjust to the darkness.

When his eyes focused, he noticed a glass on the nightstand next to him, filled with water. 

He woke up the next day annoyingly early and listlessly laid in bed for a few hours, alternating between trying to get some more sleep, thumbing through his various social media apps, and staring out the window. Around 9am he decided to get up and find something to eat. 

The kitchen was remarkably clean. Ian knew that he and Max had left a bit of a mess the night before, so Max must have cleaned it up before he went to sleep. In the pantry he found a box of Cap’n Crunch and decided that would be a good enough breakfast for him. The house was quiet, smelling slightly of alcohol and Cheetos. It was surprisingly comforting to be here, the same sun shining through the blinds, quietly eating a bowl of cereal at the bar. This place was like home, except here, Max would be up soon and he'd have somebody to talk to. 

But Max didn't emerge from his room until sometime around 11, hair wild around his face, eyes dead tired.

When he meandered into the living room, Ian was spread out across the couch, fingers tapping quickly across his keyboard as he was wrote a rough script for a video he was planning. He looked over at Max, who was half collapsed onto the counter.

“How long did you sleep, a solid 11 hours?” Ian raised an eyebrow, amused.

The mass at the counter harrumphed. “What time is it.”

“It's 11:30 dude.”

Max shot bolt upright and ran to his room, leaving Ian to wait until he came back. 

“Fuck! I have 5 missed calls from George!” He came stumbling back into the room, phone in hand. “His flight got here half an hour ago!”

Ian was laughing until they got into the car.


	4. green screens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is too weird.

“You dumb motherfucker Max, why do we put you in charge of anything?”

“Because… fuck. Why do we put me in charge of everything? Shouldn't Ian be in charge of stuff?”

Ian raised his eyebrows and looked up from his phone, “No thanks. I'd rather blame Max for everything.”

“Oi!” Max exclaimed, glaring at Ian through the rearview mirror. He just winked back, and Max shook his head in mock fury. 

George lounged in the passenger seat, looking every bit as cool and aloof as he always did, sunglasses hiding his eyes. He laughed, and the car ride back to Max’s was easy. 

Ian always figured that it must have been strange to be around him and Max, because they were like pieces of each other, on the same page with everything they did. Nothing was easier than being around Max, and Ian knew he was really lucky to have a friend like him. The kind of friend that's more like a soulmate in a weird, gay way.

But it felt so right when George was with them. He was like the missing piece, even if a lot of the time he was still a mystery to Ian. It was like he knew who George was when he was with them, but he didn't know a lot about what he did when he wasn't vomiting up some substance or another with them. He didn't know the George that was a musician, a singer, an artist. 

And that was kind of weird. 

That day they just hung around with each other in Max's backyard, enjoying the sunshine. Max and George each had a couple beers, but Ian opted for a soda instead. 

“How's your album coming along, dude?” Max asked, bare feet propped up on a shitty card table. George lounged coolly in his chair, one leg up on the arm of the chair, an elbow resting against his knee, propping his head up while the beer dangled in the fingers of his other hand. 

“Ah, it's good man. I'm excited to finish it, I'm really happy with what we've got so far. It's gonna be really fuckin stupid but cool, and it's so me.” His mouth stretched into a lopsided smile, and Ian realized he'd been staring at George for a weird amount of time. He shifted his focus to Max, who chugged the rest of his beer, a liberal burp coming soon after.

“I'm trying to figure out if I can start making any money off Uptown Puffs.” Ian added, and the other two boys laughed, “You fuckin’ cunt.” Max chuckled, and George offered ways he could try making money off of it.

All in all, it was really nice to just hang out with his two best friends. As darkness fell upon them, George and Max were starting to get a bit tipsy and they laughed heartily at all of Ian's shitty jokes as they moved inside. Max laid happily on the floor of the living room, while Ian sat on the couch, George's feet resting across his lap.

“Isn't the whole…. Uh, isn't that meme dead now though?” Max's voice floated up to them, and George laughed. “No way dude, people love making videos on Onision, cause he's such a fucking cunt. They'll do it forever, and Onision will make cancerous fucking response videos forever and nobody will mind. Hating on that guy is guaranteed views.”

“But he's such a cunt…” Max moaned, his hand popping over the coffee table as he set his beer down.

“That's like, his place on YouTube. To be fucking cancer.” Ian propped his feet on the coffee table, realizing that George was staring at him, and kept his eyes ahead.

“Are you gonna make a content cop on him at some point?” George asked, taking a drag on the blunt he'd lit up a few minutes ago. Ian looked over at him as he spoke, watching the way smoke drifted from George's lips.

“Don't need to. I couldn't make a video on him that had anything new to say. All I'd accomplish is bringing attention to him, and I don't want to give that fucker any views.”

George laughed, admitting that he was probably right.

\--

Tonight it was his turn to make sure the boys got to bed. Max went easily but loudly, hanging onto Ian's shoulder, cackling as he slipped his fingers under the hem of Ian's shirt and got swatted away. 

George was pretty high, and Ian had to guide more than carry him to bed. When they got to George's room though, he stopped Ian from leaving by grabbing his wrist.

“Hold on. I want to talk to you for a second. I'm not that tired.” 

“Okay.” He sat down on the edge of the bed next to George, waiting.

But he didn't say anything.

“Was there… Something specific you wanted to talk about?” Ian looked over at him, and found that he was staring kind of intensely. 

It was hard to look away.

“Sometimes I kinda want to kiss you. Is that gay?” His voice was quiet and mellow, sounding exactly as high as he appeared to be. Ian frowned, “Yeah, that's gay, dude.”

“I think about it sometimes... Is everything okay with you? You seem different lately.” George's dark eyes bored into Ian's like jack hammers, trying to dig their way in. Ian retreated, not liking this conversation very much. “I'm fine, man. Don't worry about me.” He said vaguely. “You need to go to sleep.” 

“No, you need to go to sleep.” He replied, with all the wisdom you can get from someone who's stoned. “Good idea.” Ian stood up and took a few short strides to the door, pausing to turn the light off and wish George a good night.

As Ian tried to sleep that night, George's words never left his mind.

Come the morning, Ian avoided George's eyes for the most part knowing he must remember, but unwilling to acknowledge it. Max was oblivious, chatting away as he cooked them all pancakes, as always weirdly loving being their host. Ian stared at his shoulder blades, watching how they moved under the fabric of his t shirt. He thought he could feel the body heat radiating from George next to him. 

“That cool with you guys?” Max said, and both Ian and George replied with a startled, “What?” 

They locked eyes for just a second before looking away. 

_Fuck._

“I wanted to do a Pokemon video with Ian in a few hours, I already bought the card packs. That way George can just chill and hang out until we're done.” Max repeated himself easily, no hint of suspicion in his words. 

“Uh, yeah, that's cool.” George answered first. Ian felt like his tongue was too big for his mouth. Normally George would be the one behind the camera, and that Max was suggesting otherwise was definitely out of the ordinary, but none of them seemed to want to point that out.

They ate in relative silence. Ian feigned extreme tiredness as an excuse for his mood, which was a poor one, but Max didn't seem to notice, and George seemed preoccupied. That was fine with him. 

Max already had everything for the video set up, the only thing left to do was grab a few chairs, which only took a minute. George had retreated to his room and as Ian had passed by he heard a soft ukulele coming from inside. There was a strange urge to stop and listen.

“Ian. Ian?” 

“Hm?” He jumped just a little as he sat in the chair, looking up at Max, who stood over him, hands on his hips.

“Talk to me. What's up? Something is clearly up.” Maybe he wasn't as unobservant as Ian had thought, which he should have known. Idiot.

“Nothing, man.” He thought it sounded pretty convincing, but Max didn't look impressed.

“Bullshit. Something weird happened with you and George last night. Did you get mad at him or something? You can be a real cold bitch.” He folded his arms, head tilted in a way that made his hair flop over one eye. Ian didn't like Max towering over him while he sat, and turned to look back in front of him, where the camera was.

“No, I didn't get mad at him.” Being vague was probably not going to help this conversation end sooner, but he was so reluctant to talk about it and Max seemed determined. 

“Then what did you do?”

“You assume it was me? Ouch, Max.”

Max sat down on the card table in front of him, a long suffering sigh leaving him. Ian looked down more, the green screen bright behind him. “You can be a pretty big cunt, Ian.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“You know I'm right. Just talk to me, man. I care about you, I want to help you.”

“It's too weird.” He offered lamely, fully aware that he was reaching the point of no return.

“No it's not.”

“How the fuck do you know, cunt?” Ian looked back at Max now, feeling fury bubble up in his chest at how he was being dismissed. Max didn't know what happened, he probably thought it was just going to be something normal weird, not “I want to kiss you" weird. 

“Because I know you, cunt, and I know you only get weird about stuff that's normal.” Max didn't speak with as much anger, and kept his voice down, as George's room was rather close, but Ian could see in his eyes that he was getting frustrated. 

“Fuck you.” Ian spit at him. He knew his insults were petty and weak, but Max was pissing him off.

“Ian, all I want is to help you because I care about you and you're my friend, if you don't want to talk about it just tell me it's none of my business and to fuck off! You don't have to be such an asshole about it.” 

_Sometimes I want to kiss you… is that gay?_

Those words had been running through his head all day and right now it was all he could hear. 

_What the fuck, George? Why would you say that? Fucking why?_

He looked at Max, angry and bright, pieces of hair still over his eye, and glanced down at his lips.

And Max glanced down at his.

_Who the fuck am I? Is this who I am?_

He felt the way the room changed, and for a split second he saw in his minds eye Max taking a hold of his face, their lips crashing together, Ian almost falling over in the chair he sat in, Max bent over him. It was like falling down a rabbit hole, and he didn't know who he was anymore. Who any of them were anymore. 

They would kiss feverishly for a few seconds before Ian pushed hard against Max's shoulders. He would fall back, chest heaving, eyes wild.

Ian would stand unsteadily, head swimming, nearly unable to breath for all the panic he felt.

“Fuck off.” The words wouldn't bite as much as they should have, and with barely a second to think, he'd grab his wallet and phone and leave Max's house, slamming the door behind him and stalking down his street with no idea where he was going. 

He knew Max saw the same thing.

Their eyes met again and it felt like looking at Max for the first time again. 

Ian was the one who broke the spell, muttering something about being right back, brushing past Max's shoulder as he left the room. 


	5. sometime around 2:30

_ I wanted to kiss him. I thought about kissing him and I'm pretty sure he thought about it too. What the fuck?! What the fucking cunt in god damned fucking hell is going on.  _

 

Ian locked the bathroom door behind him and didn't even bother to close the lid on the toilet, opting instead to sit on the rim, staring at the bathroom mat in front of him. 

 

It's not that he'd never thought about kissing Max before, or doing other stuff with Max before. He had. But who hadn't thought about making out with their friend before? He'd thought about what it would be like to suck him off before, but it was just idle curiousity. Nothing serious. But what had just happened was something different. It had felt so charged and raw and like something between them had been torn away and 

 

_ Shut the fuck up you idiot. Just stop fucking thinking about it. It was just a weird moment. It's not even that big of a deal. You're overreacting. _

 

Overreacting. That's all it fucking was. Just Ian being a weird fucking virgin again. Overanalyzing an argument with Max and turning it into something it clearly wasn't. The idea that Max had thought about kissing him in the throes of some weird, gay ass passion was stupid and laughable and now Ian was going to be embarrassed when he left the bathroom because Max was probably really confused about why he stormed off like a fucking child. 

 

_ He's going to think I'm fucking mental. _

 

Ian took a few deep breaths, stood up, and flushed the toilet, so it at least seemed like he'd come in here for a regular reason. At the very least it would hopefully fool George. When he open the door and looked around the corner into the kitchen, the only one there was George, and he looked really confused.

 

“Do you know where Max just went? He walked out the door without saying anything.”

 

Ian's stomach twisted up like he was going to puke. 

 

“Uh, he got the wrong card packs at the store. He went to go get some more.” He managed in what was hopefully a normal voice. 

 

“Oh, okay. Cool.” George opened the fridge, looking for something to eat, and Ian quietly retreated to his room, his brain screaming hundreds of things at him all at once. 

 

When Max finally got home, Ian was laying on his side in bed, flicking through his phone. He heard Max stumble into the house, and the quiet, deep tones of George's voice were muffled through the walls, but Ian heard him walking with Max down the hall. They stopped at the room George was staying in, and Ian heard Max fall outside his door. 

 

“Seriously man, stay right here, I'm getting you some water before I put you in bed.”

 

“Yeah sure, whatever.” Max replied petulantly, and Ian knew he was leaning against the door. A few seconds later George was back with some water, and he heard him drink it noisily, probably spilling a fair amount on himself. 

 

A look at his phone told Ian that it was 3 AM.

 

“Did something happen today?” George asked Max quietly, and Ian held his breath.

 

“I don't know. Kind of? Not really? It's so fucking stupid.” Max spoke too loud.

 

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

 

“Probably shouldn't, cause I'm drunk and I'll forget tomorrow, but whatever.” Max's voice was slurring heavily, and he heard a glass fall, and knew that the water George had gotten Max just spilled everywhere. “He got really mad at me cause of something between you and him. And things just got really fucking weird. Really, really fucking weird.”

 

George's voice, when he spoke, was strained. “What was it?”

 

“How come he didn't want to tell me why he was mad at you?” Max appeared to have fixated on that question once again. 

 

“The other night, when I got high, I told him that I think about kissing him sometimes. I didn't think it was that big of a deal, just some random shit you say when you're high, but in the morning he was really weird about it.”

 

Even though he was alone, Ian's face heated up. 

 

_ Great. I'm just the weird fucking idiot who makes things weird for people. No wonder my only friends only see me twice a year. _

 

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, until George spoke up again. “What weird thing happened between you?”

 

“I dunno… we just… we were arguing…. And he was so fucking mad at me, and then like all of a sudden I just wanted to fucking make out with him. And it was super weird and gay and he freaked out and left.”

 

“Wait, you guys made out?” George sounded shocked. 

 

“No! But… we almost did…. I think… it happened so fast. But maybe it was just me.”

 

“Judging by the way I haven't seen Ian all day either, I don't think it was just you.”

 

“Well what the fuck does that mean then?” Max sounded absurdly concerned, and George laughed quietly.

 

“You guys should probably talk about it. Let me help you to bed, man.” 

 

Ian heard Max's loud protests as George pried him off the floor and carried him down the hall. It took him a long time to fall asleep that night.

 

\--

 

When Ian woke up in the morning, it was slow and lazy and there was a head laid across his chest. Max hummed, not quite awake, his fingers curling into the fabric of Ian's shirt. Ian automatically brought up a hand to begin carding through Max's long hair, scrolling through his phone with the other, feeling so utterly at peace. His computer hummed over by the door, providing a familiar and relaxing background noise. 

 

“Mmm, fuck.” Were the first words Max spoke as he drifted from sleep, removing his arm from around Ian to rub his eyes and stretch. “If it's before 10 AM, tell me now.” He groaned, wrapping the blankets tightly up around his neck. 

 

“9:45.” Ian answered, smile soft. Max groaned louder, retreated underneath the blankets completely, until he was just a lump. “Fuck!” His voice cried from inside the comforter. “Get out of there, unless you're planning to give me a nice morning blowjob.” Ian said, yanking the covers back to reveal Max, curled into a ball. Something warm curled around his heart and made him feel lighter.

 

Ian turned to his left, realized George was on his other side, sleeping soundly next to him, and wondered how he hadn’t noticed him lying there before. He looked so small the way his hand rested on the pillow next to him, mouth slightly open. On instinct, Ian brushed aside a lock of his dark hair, and a low groan left George’s chest, deep and rumbling. “Not yet.” He said, voice gravelly, and Ian and Max laughed together, and it felt like he was home.

  
Ian woke with a start, his heart racing as he realized he was in Australia.


End file.
